


One step forward

by DarthKrande



Series: Phases-verse [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-06 13:43:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1860165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthKrande/pseuds/DarthKrande
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To fight a war, one needs money. To repair a planet after the war ended, one needs even more money. And, to his shock, Optimus finds out he has only one mech to turn to.... An interlude between chapters 6 and 7 of Phases, but also makes sense without it if you just keep in mind this is AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Courage, Optimus reminded himself. We are not here to kill each other.  
In theory, he silently added. He had to look firm, outwardly, even if he was not the least as confident as he pretended to be. He wouldn’t have travelled to Monacus if Prowl wouldn’t have considered his chances favorable, and he had trusted his tactician with his life about a million times during the war. According to Prowl, this meeting’s results would be mutually beneficient for both parties. If he survives, of course.  
As the elevator moved him to the newly built levels of the Monacusian Sunbow Bank’s office building, he noticed more and more Cybertronian elements in the design. He was getting closer to the mass murderer he was about to see.  
He caught glimpse of an Ardurian roc flying past. The vast, transforming avian’s presence was yet another proof that the Sunbow’s security director took his job seriously. According to the information Blaster had collected, there were no robberies in the past months that the black mech wouldn’t have uncovered and retaliated. He had once been a bounty hunter, and never was he paid to show mercy. And he never had. He was a live weapon. Perhaps the best paid weapon in the universe.   
And that was exactly why Optimus Prime was here.  
As he stepped out of the elevator, he noticed two more rocs perching nearby. They watched almost lazily as he raised his hand to the door lock’s sensor panel, two pairs of fine optics following his movement. Would he attempt to hack into the communication network or try to hide a bug in the building, these intelligent birds would immediately attack. And while the Prime could have fought off two of them, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to fend himself from their master. He had first-hand experience of his speed and of the thickness of his armor.   
Before he would have touched the panel, however, the door opened on its own. The office revealed behind it was spacious, but otherwise austere. Chairs, tables, a few communication devices.... hardly anything personal.  
Well, this mech never seemed to have anything to do with ‘personal’.   
“So, how is the reconstruction going?”  
No greeting, no polite hanging about. Not a trace of respect. Just two wings held in a neutral position, piercing red optics set on him, and some weapons that could be trained at him in the fragment of an astrosec. The door closed behind him, giving a very quiet cling. Optimus couldn’t make out the sound of any reactivating energy fields, but he supposed there to be a rayshield generator in the wall somewhere.   
“We are making progress, thank you for asking. The best thing about it, we can build something and still find it standing a week later.”  
“Now, that’s unusual, isn’t it” the mass murderer dryly grinned. “Take a seat, Prime. If you don’t mind, I’m activating the dampeners – there’s no need for anyone else to hear details.”  
“Proceed.”  
Again, there was no sound, only the shivery feeling of energy a few steps away from his frame. The ex-Decepticon sat down on the other side of the table, easing his immense wings against the windowpane.   
“So, Prime. As we both know, there is a bounty of four hundred million shanix on your head. Two from the Quints, one from Decepticons and roughly another one from various Galactic Council members. I say, let’s call the handling costs the double of that, and I think we can call your visit beneficial for both parties. Do you agree with me?”  
“Cybertron’s economy is deep in ruins.” Optimus looked straight into those piercing red optics, and continued. “Our entire world is in ruins, the place where your spark was found is in ruins, and you expect me to pay you eight hundred shanix?”  
The mech nodded without any recognizable expressions on his face.  
“Yes. That would be a generous offer for a two billion shanix bank loan, especially if I consider how many other financial institutions seem to have any faith in Cybertron’s newly forged peace, Prime. Most investors are either expecting the old civil war to continue, or they are waiting for us to lower our defenses foolishly and be attacked by some vengeanceful civilization.”  
It didn’t escape Optimus’s attention how the mech included himself when he talked about Cybertron’s defense, although this could be just an intentional tool of pretending partnership and faking interest in Cybertron’s future. But maybe the mech solemnly considered himself to be a Cybertronian warrior, although for the past million years, all he had done was making sure that the Decepticons didn’t leave any ‘vengeanceful civilization’ on the worlds their war had reached. Apart from wiping out a battalion of Cybertronians, occasionally.  
“Make it three billion shanix” Optimus finally requested. “If the handling costs would be eight hundred shanix, then at least be generous and fund the reconstruction of at least the Tri-torus states.”  
“It would be wiser to start with the equatorial area. Tagan, Polyhex, maybe Kalis. You can leave the fancy noble cities like Praxus for later.”  
Now that was an insult against the higher ranking mech. Maybe an intended move, just like talking in first person plural a few moments ago.  
“As the current Prime, it is still my task and responsibility to decide which areas would be priorized in the reconstruction.”  
“Your task, your responsibility” the mech nodded mockingly. “But my money. Kapis?”  
“Three point five billion shanix, then.” Suddenly Optimus had the feeling he just earned some temporary respect from the black murderer.   
“For eight hundred million shanix total handling costs?”  
“That’s still the double of what you would get for my severed head.”  
“Deal. Three point five billion shanix, for eight hundred million, and I get a say in how it would be spent. One billion installment in every tenth vorn – this way the entire revenue would be covered in roughly as long time as the destruction had taken.”   
That had been a generous offer, Optimus admitted to himself. The rebuilding of an entire planet that was ravaged by war for millions of years had taken up almost every resource they still had. Simply, he had nowhere else to turn to. Prowl had considered every possible way of fundraising, and it spoke clearly of Cybertron’s current reputation that the Monacusian Sunbow Bank’s support was still the only available they could count on. And that was because its security director was one of his own people.  
Hahh. Now was he, too, considering the mass destruction warmachine to belong to them? A part of him strongly rebelled against the idea. At the same time he could feel the Matrix of Leadership approving of this black murderer.  
The mech in question leaned a few inches forward, assuming a less formal position.  
“You know, I heard Sixshot talking quite respectfully about you lately. Mark my words, he holds you at a very high esteem.”  
This could be understood in more than one way. It could either be heard as ‘but I’m not like him’ or as ‘you’d better live up to his expectations’. Optimus decided to heed both warnings.   
“And I have learned to respect him just as much.”   
“You had better, Prime. And now, to business.” Optimus’s processor gave out for an astrosec. Have they not just agreed on the bank loan the Monacusian Sunbow was about to provide? He had not been caught this much unprepared since the war ended. What was business, if a three and a half billion shanix bank loan was not?  
The destroyer dialed up a holographic map of Cybertron. The vibrating orb between them displayed shockingly accurate details about the current standing of the reconstruction process. Different shades indicated the population density in each former city-state, dots stood for the planned energon centers and crosses marked incomplete metal-processing plants. Just after he understood what he was seeing, shiny white markings appeared in the most populated places.  
“I, in the name of the Monacusian Sunbow Bank, propose to buy the plots of land as marked. I am offering ten million shanix for any of the sites marked with the big white dots, and three million shanix for any of the smaller yellow ones. I want Sunbow banking establishments in every city-state. Furthermore, I will need monopoly for a soon-to-be-funded Cybertronian subsidiary of the Sunbow in Tagan, Iacon, Kalis and Vos. Name your price for that.”  
Optimus Prime blinked. They were talking about roughly another billion shanix, for parcels of land that were currently nothing more than rust-covered ruins, piles of dead metal, and pools of spilled energon.   
“According to our agreement, Vos and Kalis are Starscream’s territory. I cannot accept any payment for a monopoly I can’t offer.”  
The black wings twitched as if in a grimace.   
“Iacon, Tagan and Protihex then. Three hundred million shanix for no bank in them apart from Sunbow or its affiliates.”  
“Per polity.”   
“Per polity” the mass murderer nodded. “I don’t want any outlander investors on my planet of origin. Cybertron is ours.”  
The pale grey mouthplate could no longer hide Optimus Prime’s disapproving frown. He was selling out the planet they have been fighting over for millions of years. Cybertron’s economy was devastated, but perhaps not as much as the ex-Decepticon seemed to think. They needed independence, they needed to grow again, to rise from the ruins. They didn’t need to be in the tight grip of a greedy destroyer.  
“You don’t seem to understand, my Prime. For all these centuries, you and Megatron have been heedlessly destroying everything you came in contact with. You destroyed the power plants, you destroyed the factories. Your mechs blew up the planetary engines when Cybertron was without a reliable star to circle. Megatron stood by, laughing, when our best scientist got himself killed. I never gave him a piece of my mind, because I know he wouldn’t have listened. You neither. But Cybertron is my home planet, and while you both were busy ruining our world, I have gathered the means of rebuilding it. I can afford having it rebuilt, Prime.”  
The Autobot leader inhaled deeply, counted to twenty, and ex-vented. He was aware he shouldn’t react to the offense and provocation. With this mech, he knew better than to take anything personally. He took one more moment to regain his focus before he spoke up.  
“You mentioned a Cybertronian affiliate of the Monacusian Sunbow. Let us dwell more into that detail, Blackshadow.”  
“With pleasure.”


	2. Another step forward

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The darkest side of the coin. Written for a group challenge and for my fellow fangirl beta, 12drakon.

So here’s the great one, Blackshadow thought when Optimus Prime entered the sensors’ range. His stance, his reserved transformation, and then the sound of his engines were all subtle telltale signs of self-confidence and wisdom. He came alone as he had promised, but even now he was projecting the impression of a leader. Starscream will have to practice long before he could imitate half of this. Megatron? Hah, Megatron had double dose of self-assurance, but even at his highest he never had the same processor qualities.

And he never would anymore, Blackshadow added with a quiet harrumph. Even back when the Decepticons had believed their leader’s words, it was because Megatron had spoken of the same unjust treatment they all had suffered. He could inspire his followers by ordering them to do what they had been eager to achieve. Decepticons had chosen to wear the purple badge because they had foolishly believed their leader would always demand what they all hoped to pull through.

The black robot’s dark red optics flashed at his own reflection in the transparisteel windowpane. There was a reason he wasn’t wearing the same badge anymore.

A quick glance at the office: everything set, pristine, ready to leave a good impression. Since he had become the security director of the Monacusian Sunbow Bank, he had received numerous important beings here, but Optimus Prime was on the far end of the scale of “important”. He was, currently, the only legitimate ruler on Cybertron.

An Ardurian roc landed on the back of his chair, then transformed with a flip. The robotic avian reported that he’d seen no other Autobot apart from the Prime, but they were keeping their optics open.

“Good. Let him feel being watched, but not threatened.”

Of countless species he came across as a phase-sixer, Ardurians were one of the few whom Blackshadow considered worthy of preservation. They were intelligent, adaptive, loyal, receptive and deadly. Their planet also had a very special resource that was just calling for investment in refrigerator technology, as Blackshadow very quickly found out. Shockwave was less than thankful when he came to check on the Regenesis missile and found a coldbomb manufacture in its place and three civilian insulator factories. His sense for business might have been lost at the same time as his sense of humor, but during that encounter, Blackshadow had learnt for certain that Shockwave was still capable of anger.

“Let the Prime in.”

Oh, the glorious leader of the Autobots. Bulky like every other grounder, war-worn and still ready to fight if needed. Blackshadow watched him with approval. Prime’s death would have paid four hundred million shanix, but he was much more profitable alive.

He was Cybertron’s entire future.


End file.
